


No Control

by chelsjadexox



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, F/M, Family, Fluff and Smut, Hunters & Hunting, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelsjadexox/pseuds/chelsjadexox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day you met Sam Winchester was the first day of your life; that’s what you tell people. That’s what you told your baby sister when you got home from your first date, that’s what you told your best friend on the phone later that night and that’s what you'd told your mother when she asked about him for the first time. Everyone gave you the same reaction. You're young, you cannot possibly fathom what true love really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Control

The day you met Sam Winchester was the first day of your life; that’s what you tell people. That’s what you told your baby sister when you got home from your first date, that’s what you told your best friend on the phone later that night and that’s what you’d told your mother when she asked about him for the first time. Everyone gave you the same reaction. You’re young, you cannot possibly fathom what true love really is.

It’s now two years later and you still feel the exact same way. You still feel as though Sammy Winchester opened your eyes, that he showed you a life you never even knew was possible. You feel a strange sense of calm whenever he’s around, and you almost wonder if he’s some sort of an angel. There is no possible way someone who completes you so could be merely human. You didn’t quite feel the same about his brother, Dean.

The first time you met Dean Winchester, he hit on you. He walked straight up to you and threw some cheesy one liner that you no longer recall, and expected you to go all gooey and fall into his arms.

“Does that _ever_ work?” You asked with a scrunched up nose, taking a sip of the vodka sunrise Sammy had ordered for you before going to the bathroom. Dean never got the chance to answer your question, Sam coming over moments later and saving you from Dean, who responded with wide eyes when his brother pressed his lips gently against yours.

Dean was rough around all of his edges, and he never once made an effort to hide any of that from you for the sake of comfort. He screamed at Sam while you were standing right beside him. He ate with his mouth open and seemed incapable of drinking anything that wasn’t alcoholic. Sammy told you there was reasons for why is brother was the way he was, but you couldn’t wrap your head around how to siblings could be _so_ different.

Sam had never raised his voice around you at anything except traffic. He always ate with his mouth closed and drank more water than you’d ever seen a person drink. He was good, down to his bones. He was good.

Meeting Bobby Singer was a completely different experience. To this day you have never seen Sam Winchester as nervous as he was the day he introduced you to his surrogate father, as he called him. Bobby was everything Sam was. He was polite, he made you laugh and never once made you feel as though you belonged anywhere but with them. It made you wonder what Sam and Dean’s real father must have been like. There must be a good reason for why Dean is the way he is.

“Can I ask you something?” You ask Sam one night when you’re both laying side by side in his king sized bed. His arms around you tightened and you took that as a yes. “What was your dad like?” You ask, biting down on the inside of your bottom lip. Sam knew everything there was to know about your family, and all you knew about his was that most of them were deceased.

“He was okay.” Sam shrugged, turning to press his lips against the side of your head. You don’t know it, but his eyes are closed tightly. You lay there silent, hoping he chooses to trust you enough to continue. “I haven’t done… this before.” He admits shyly, though his voice seems to be seeping with the realisation that he really hadn’t ever told anyone about his father.

“Talked about your dad?” You ask, trying to clarify which part of what you were doing was new to your boyfriend. You shift back slightly so you can look up at him. Your hand rests against his chest and you feel butterflies fill your stomach. You sometimes forget how muscly your strong Winchester is.

“Dean is the only one and even he is hard to talk to about this.” He replies, turning his head to look straight up at the ceiling above you. He lets a few moments of comfortable silence pass before he speaks again. “He wasn’t a very nice person, that’s all.”

“What happened to him?” You ask, pushing your luck while Sam was clearly in some sort of opening up mood.  Sam pauses for a moment before he looks down at you, a sweet, loving smile plastered on his face.

“It is so much more complicated than I could ever explain to you in one sitting.” He tells you and you know sharing time is over. You merely nod, trying to understand that this was obviously a topic your boyfriend was not, by any measure, comfortable talking about.

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about.” Sam told you before he shifted so his whole body was facing you, resting his large hand on your cheek and stroking your face gently. You automatically lean toward the touch, revelling in how good his skin feels against yours. “Move in here with me.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked with a nervous laugh, wondering if you’d completely misheard him.

“You’ll always be safe here.” Sam stated simply, as though that were an explanation on its own.

“Why am I not safe at home?” You ask, and you feel a pang of nerves wash through you. He sighed before merely smiling down at you with that dorky, affectionate smile he has and leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

“It’s…”

“Complicated.” You jump in, finishing the phrase you’d had thrown at you so many times over the past two years you’d come to expect it.

“There’s something I need to talk to _you_ about.” You start, that familiar sick feeling rising in your stomach at the sound of your own words. Were you read for this? Was _he_ ready for this?

“Are you a hunter?” You look across at your boyfriend who is staring at you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly ajar. That was enough of an answer for you. “Why didn’t you just tell me, Sam?”

“I… I don’t uh… How do you even…” You smile at him affectionately, though there’s a sick feeling growing in the pits of your chest. A hunter, great.

“I’ve killed my share of demons, Sam.” He blinks three times before his mouth closes, like he knows there is nothing he can say that will change the fact that you’ve both been hidden the biggest parts of yourself from one another.

You had your suspicions about Sam. The secret keeping, the knife with the weird writing on it he didn’t think you knew about that lay under his pillow every night. Deep down you know you always knew.

“Sam, what happened to your dad?” You ask, making the bold choice to push the subject that was forcefully dropped moments earlier.

“He made a deal with a demon to save Dean.” Sam replied truthfully this time. You nod slowly, letting out a hysterical laugh over the fact that you’d spent your life avoiding hunters and yet found yourself head over heels in love with one anyway.

Your parents were going to freak out. _Never date a hunter_ was a concept that was drilled into you from day one. Hunters don’t settle down, they’re unpredictable and they’re not safe to be around. That’s what your mother has been telling you all your life.

 

 

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

 

“Where are his parents? Why doesn’t he live with them?” Your mother asked when you were getting dressed, pulling on a fitted red dress you knew Sam loved so much. Your mother’s eyes were tight as she looked at your thighs, clearly not approving of your wardrobe choice.

“They’re both dead.” You tell her truthfully, pursing your lips before placing a light later layer of red lipstick on your lips. You could feel her eyes on your back, disapproving and questioning. It wasn’t that your mother was overly judgemental or strict; she was protective. It made her uneasy that you were so involved with someone you were yet to bring to the house.

“What about this brother of his?” She asks with a frown on her face, your little sister appearing at her side with a guilty expression on her face. You’d never told your mother Sam has a brother; though you’d told your sister.

“Dean won’t be coming tonight as far as I’m aware.” You reply before running both your hands through your hair, not bothering to do anything particularly special with it. You didn’t know if Dean would be coming along or not, though you could only imagine that he’d want to be as far away from anything even resembling normality as he could possibly be.

“What does this boy do for a living?” Your mother asks and you feel your breath catch in your throat. Out of all the questions she could have asked; you were praying this one didn’t come up. You shrug your shoulders casually, turning to face her with a small smile. “He’s not a…”

“He’s not a hunter.” You snap quickly before forcing that same small smile onto your face. You wonder if your reaction is too strong. You’d hidden your boyfriends… career of choice from your parents for this long; you couldn’t screw it up now.

“How do I look?” You ask, and she looks you up and down and nibbles on the inside of her bottom lip, as though she’s trying to decide what she really wants to say before she eventually does speak.

“You look beautiful.” You sigh, letting out the breath you were holding in relief. “Too beautiful, your father is going to have a heart attack when he sees that dress.” She adds with a quiet chuckle, shaking her head before disappearing down the hall to get ready herself and your sister ready.

You’d decided with your mother that you were going to go to Sam and Dean’s place and meet your family at the restaurant so he didn’t have to show up alone. Your mother didn’t know the real reason you were going to his apartment beforehand; and she never would. You pull up at the bunker and check your face in the mirror, making sure your lipstick looked as good as it did before you left the house.

“You’re fine.” You tell yourself, hopping out of the car and walking straight into the bunker. After a year of knocking on the door it was Dean who told you that it was fine for you to just walk in, so long as you announced yourself loudly as you did so. You didn’t ask why.

“I’m here!” You call out as you close the large metal door behind yourself, a slight squeal escaping your mouth when Sam runs around the corner, not hesitating to push you against the closed door with a playful smile.

“Oh, I missed you.” He whispers against your lips, his hands resting on either side of your face while he continued covering your whole face in his sweet, affectionate kisses.

“Okay, stop. I miss you too but… make up.” You remind him with a playful shove, instantly regretting that you hadn’t bought your make up in the car with you. You made a mental note to remember that for next time; assuming tonight goes well enough for there to be a next time.

“Come on.” Sam chuckles after rolling his eyes at you, grabbing your hand and leading you towards his bedroom without another word.

“Hey Dean.” You smile when you pass him sitting in the living area, and you instantly noticed the casual suit he was wearing. He threw his hand in the air in a lazy way to signal that he’d heard you.

“He’s coming?” You ask, every nervous thought you’d pushed down about Sam meeting your family bubbling back up to the surface at the mere thought of Dean tagging along. Sam purses his lips once your both safety behind his closed bedroom door, smiling at you apologetically.

“I told him I was meeting your family and he played that whole big brother dad thing on me and…”

“It’s okay.” You stop him, standing on your tip toes to place one finger over his lips to stop him talking, knowing if you let him continue he’d be ranting all night long, and neither of you had time for that tonight. “I just didn’t know he was going to be coming with us.”

“If you want me to ask him to stay…”

“Don’t.” You react quickly, your stomach turning at the mere concept of telling Dean he wasn’t invited to the family dinner you’d organised. You wanted to be in his good books, as much as you hated to admit it. He was Sam’s family, and you hoped, one day he would be yours too. You couldn’t afford to have him like you any less than he already did.

“How much time do we have?” Sammy asks, licking his lips while his fingers toy with the hem of your dress that was fast being moved higher up your thighs.

“Not long.” You admit with a smirk, biting down on your bottom lip before closing the small distance between you both. Your lips collide together hard and he wastes no time in lifting you into his arms and dropping you onto his bed. You drop down with a moan, your hips rolling toward your boyfriend in desperation.

“You got ten minutes.” You hear from the other side of the door, Dean’s voice warning you that if you weren’t outside in ten minutes he was coming in whether you were done or not.

“Hurry up.” You giggle while Sam lowers his zipper, not bothering to take off his jeans completely. You shift your dress up until it’s pooled around your waist and you hear your boyfriend groan the realisation you weren’t wearing underwear when you showed up.

“Are you sure we have to go to dinner?” He smirks when he moves to lie on top of you, one of his hands positioning himself so he can slide into you with ease. You roll your eyes at him, the smile on your lips dissipating the second he pushes inside of you. You loved moments like these. You loved when you had five, ten minutes left of alone time and you both desperately needed that last intimate part of each other. He wasn’t gentle with you. He didn’t kiss you, he didn’t talk to you. He fucked you, plain and simple.

“Faster.” You beg, your nails digging hard enough into his shoulder blades to draw blood. You loosen your grip; not wanting him to have to change his shirt before you left. He does as he’s told and you come undone faster than ever before.

You’re both ready and in the impala before Dean.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

You walk into your family’s favourite restaurant holding Sam’s hand so you don’t have to awkwardly point out to your parents which of the brothers is your boyfriend. Dean is trailing a few steps behind you, listening to a voicemail he’d received while he was driving.

The second your father catches sight of you, his eyes are on the length of your dress. His eyes roll and you know the second you get home you’ll be getting an earful about dignity. If only he knew.

“Hi daddy.” You smile sweetly when your father presses his lips to your cheek, his unshaven beard scratching against your face. You feel Sam squeeze your hand gently and you know it’s in response to the term _daddy._ He loved that word. “This is Sammy.”

“Sam.” Your boyfriend corrects you with an embarrassed chuckle. “Sam Winchester.” All the colour drains from your fathers face at the sound of Sam’s last name. “This is my brother, Dean.” Sam continues awkwardly, not missing the sudden sharp expression of disdain on your fathers face.

“Hey I’m... Oh holy shit.” Dean stops with wide eyes, retracting the hand he’d just stretched out toward your dad who looks mortified.

“Daddy what’s…”

“Please, sit.” He comments, forcing a smile while you all awkwardly take your places. You poke your tongue at your sister and your mother throws a coy wink in your direction.

“Dude, this is _very_ bad.” Dean hissed toward his brother, and you felt your body tighten.

“So, Sam.” Your father started, taking a sip of the beer that was sitting in front of him before he continued. Your grasp on Sam’s thigh under the table tightened, knowing that your father was not one to hold back if there was something he wanted to know.  “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m between jobs at the moment.” Sam replied politely, placing his hand over yours and running his thumb gently along the back of your hand. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to calm you, or himself. Dean smirked from across the table, nodding in agreement to a statement that seemed all too normal to you. “We sort of are in a family business.” The smirk on Dean’s face disappeared immediately.

“Oh?” Your mother asks before shoving a fork full of kale into her mouth, her eyes never leaving Sam as she did so. Dean’s  face was void of any emotion, and it made you slightly uneasy. Sammy had asked you not to push him when it came to his job; and you didn’t. You were started to think that maybe it was time to start insisting he tell you what he does. If Dean’s expression is anything to go by; you should do it soon.

“Our father was a hunter.” Your mother coughs, though everyone’s eyes stayed focused on Sam. Your father’s eyes tightened on your boyfriends face and you could have sworn you were about to have a full blown panic attack.

“Deer, mostly.” Dean chimed in suddenly, causing a breath of relief to wash out of you. You loosened your grip on your his leg and let your fingers wind together lazily instead. He seemed completely at ease, though his brother’s eyes were burning holes in him.

 “Deer.” Your father repeated, chuckling darkly before nodding slowly, slapping Dean on the shoulder in that typical male way. You never understood how anyone considered that to be anything of any substance. “Is that what they calling ‘em these days.” Both Dean and Sam share a look that you weren’t quite able to decipher.

“Them?” Dean asks, taking a long sip of his beer.

“What are the chances your father’s name is John Winchester?” Sam’s eyes drift closed, his hand leaving yours alone under the table so both of his hands could cover his face to hide the panic that was now washing over him. Even in death his father was interrupting his life.

“He’s dead.” Dean states casually, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to keep the conversation as calm as possible.

“What ended up getting him?” Your father asks and your mother’s eyes shit between your face and Sam’s, trying to read if you knew anything about what was going on.

“A demon.” Dean states blankly with a sharp edge in his voice, turning his body to face your fathers, preparing for a fight.

“Did you exorcise the motherfucker or did you kill…” Your father asks, looking between Sam and Dean while he takes another sip of his beer.

“We are not talking demons over dinner.” Your mother laughs, shaking her head at the three boys.  You feel a frown make its way onto your face. Not talking demons over dinner? This should not feel as normal as it does.

“Are you hunting anything right now?” Your father asks, completely ignoring your mothers comment. The brothers look between themselves, debating how much they should give away to your father. _You_ didn’t even know what they were hunting at the moment.

“There’s sort of this big picture thing we’re trying to take care of right now.” Sam replies with a small smile, his hand resting against your thigh under the table again.

“Did you know about this?” Your mother asks, looking at you while she speaks. The boys continue talking about the big picture thing they’re working on and you so desperately want to listen it, but your mother is clearly demanding all of your attention.

“I uh, I sort of knew about the hunter thing.” You admit uneasily, recalling the fact you’d blatantly told your mother earlier that day that your boyfriend was _not_ a hunter.

At the end of the night your father surprises you by suggesting you just stay at Sam and Dean’s rather than going back to their place, getting your car, and coming home. He shook Sam’s hand, looking your boyfriend directly in the eye with a small smile playing on his lips. Sam nodded once and you wondered if they’d just silently agreed on something without your knowledge. It didn’t matter; Sam meeting your parents went better than you’d ever had anticipated.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

“How is it that you’re in a family of hunters and we’ve known you for _two_ years and we’ve never run into you on a hunt?” Dean wondered aloud once the three of you were back at the bunker. You and Sam very rarely spent time alone with Dean, but after the apparent success of meeting your parents, both brothers were in a good, sociable mood.

“I don’t hunt.” You shrug, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of Sam’s neck. Your legs were draped over his legs and Dean had taken a seat across from you. Your socked feet were inches from his legs and it was strange; having Dean so close.

“When was your last time?” Dean asked curiously, looking straight at you while he spoke. You pursed your lips, your eyes moving to rest on the wall behind his head while you mentally calculated how long it had been.

“Three years.” You conclude, nodding to yourself. Sam’s eyes widen momentarily before he runs one of his hands slowly across one of your thighs. There was nothing sexual about what he was doing but Dean frowned at him none the less, causing Sam’s movements to cease.

“Do you want to help me do something?” Dean asked, refusing to look at his brother who was now shooting daggers in his direction. “We have this demon…”

“Dean, don’t.” Sam snapped, his hand that was resting on your thigh tightening. You look between the two Winchesters and carefully debate your next move.

“Tell me more.” You whisper, taking the hand that was resting on your leg and pressing your lips to the back of his hand.

“If you haven’t hunted in three years, there’s a reason.” Sam sighed, running his hand that you weren’t holding onto through his hair in frustration. Your tongue traces your bottom lip before you swallow the lump in your throat.

“If I can help then I want to help.” You reply with soft eyes before looking at Dean, nodding for him to continue.

“He’s in the basement.”

“Damn it, Dean.” Sam chuckled darkly, resting his head against the back of the sofa you were all sitting on. You can’t help but raise your eyebrows, your eyes automatically going to rest on the hallway across from you all.

“How long has he…”

“A few months.” Dean shrugged and you knew that coming from Dean that could mean anywhere between two and twelve months. You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly as you try and process the fact that you’ve been in a house that had a demon in it without even realising.

“Why is he still… Why haven’t you…you know.” You ask with a small concerned frown coming onto your face.

“Killed him?” Sam asks, smirking at you before gently pinching your thigh until you smiled. “When Dean says we have a demon in the basement he’s sort of downplaying it.” Dean chuckles with raised eyebrows, nodding in agreement.

“We aren’t rookies.” Dean states simply with a proud smile plastered on his face, “we have the King of Hell in our basement.”

“I’m sorry, the _King_ of Hell?” You ask with that same frown still prevalent on your face. He had to be kidding, surely. “You mean like… Lucifer?” Both of the brothers laugh out loud at your question and you can’t help but feel slightly offended.

“No, baby, Lucifer is safely in his cage, trust me.” Sam smiles, sharing a quick look with his brother before turning to look at you again. He reaches his hand out and gently strokes your cheek twice before sighing. “Crowley, his name is Crowley, and I am asking you to please not go anywhere near him.”

“I won’t go near him.” You promise without even a second of hesitation. You knew that Sam wouldn’t have asked you to stay away without a good reason.  Dean rolled his eyes and you all let the conversation die there.

“Did you deliberately use the term daddy a lot tonight?” Sam asked when you both retired to his bedroom. You bite down on your bottom lip to hide the smirk that’s desperate to break out onto your face. He closed the bedroom door behind you, his tongue tracing the contours of his bottom lip while he came impossibly close to you without touching you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you start, pushing him by his shoulders towards the bed. There’s a playful expression on his face when he falls to a sitting position on the bed, his hands roaming up your thighs slowly. “Daddy.” The word trickles off your tongue and you feel a strange sense of empowerment when Sam’s eyes roll back in his head.

“You’re so…” Sam trails off, his breath catching in his throat when you get down on your knees between his legs, pushing them apart just enough for you to move closer to his body. You look up at him while your fingers lazily trail along each of his thighs.

“Naughty?” You ask innocently, trying to help him finish his sentence. Sam moans quietly, his hands bunching against the sheets on his bed, and you know all he wants is to get his hands in your hair.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.” He accuses you, no sign of a smile or a smirk on his face and you know you’ve got him. He’s right where you want him to be.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to, daddy.” You reply in that same innocent voice you know drives him crazy, all the while your fingers are unbuckling his belt and making fast work of pulling down his zipper. “If I have been naughty, I guess you’ll have to punish me.”

“God, baby.” He moans, one of his hands that was tangled up in the sheets coming to knot in your hair tightly. He lifts his hips enough for you to slip his pants down his thighs, his cotton boxers the only thing between you and the part of him you so desperately wanted.

The whole daddy thing started between you and Sam after your second date. You were busy telling him all about your father and without even thinking about it, referred to him as daddy. Sam’s pupils dilated and he nearly choked on the beer he was drinking. Two hours later you were in his bed and his eyes were still wide; you knew you’d found your boyfriends dirty little secret.

“What’s wrong, daddy?” You ask, batting your eyelashes up at Sam all the while running the tip of your pointer finger along the hard, defined bulge under the thin cotton of his boxers. He shakes his head and you don’t bother teasing him, moving to take his dick in the palm of your hand.

“You are just asking for it.” Sam chuckled darkly, his tongue tracing his own lips that were now red and inflamed from how hard he’d been biting down on them.

“Oh, you have no idea.” You smirk, looking Sam directly in the eye when you lean forward and take the head of his dick in your mouth. You suck gently, your tongue toying with the tip playfully. You moan quietly, keeping eye contact with your boyfriend before you took as much of him in your mouth as possible.

Sam’s looking down at you with an expression that screams lust. You’d slowly started getting used to the sweet, longing stares you catch him in the middle of in the early mornings. You were slowly getting used to the way he watched you make your coffee like you were the most magnificent thing you’d ever seen. You can’t imagine ever getting used to look at him and seeing him watch you with those eyes that just beg you to let him fuck you.

You can feel his hands hovering over your head, fingertips barely mussing your already out of place hair, before you urge yourself upwards into his palms; he always needed a little encouragement to be as rough with you as he wanted to be.

He groans low in his throat as you suck him deeply, his bitten down nails marking your scalp as he guides you. When you pull back against his hands he is confused, all darkness and lust in his eyes, shocked when you dip the flat of your tongue to his base and trace your way upwards. He is hot and throbbing between your lips, a light saltiness lingering on the tip of your tongue as you swirl around his head.

You intended to tease him longer, keep him curling his toes and moaning, but Sam clearly has other ideas. He angles your head to take him again, wet flesh sliding easily against the roof of your mouth. His hands in your hair give him total control, and you know how much Sam Winchester loves control. His hips buck against you as you try to keep up with his pace, covering the length of him you can't take with your left hand as he moves inside you.

He comes soon after you cup his balls, fingers twisting tight in your hair as he spills himself down your throat in a long, salty trickle. You lick your lips when he pulls away, still radiating warmth with his taste on your tongue. Sam is flat on his back when you stand, using the pad of your thumb to wipe away the last remnants of him cum from the corner of your mouth. You smile down at him, quite proud of how easily you could render Sam Winchester breathless.

 

**xxxxxxxxxx**

 

It was three hours later when you found yourself wide awake in Sam’s bed that you realised that doing as he asked you earlier in the night was easier said than done. Your eyes were glued to the bedroom door, every bone in your body willing to stay put, to cuddle up to Sam and get a goodnights sleep. Naturally, your brain wanted the exact opposite.

You stood up as carefully as you could; grabbing the shirt Sam had thrown off when you both came to bed and pulling it over your body. You were wearing nothing but your lace underwear and his shirt when you started to tiptoe to the bedroom door, leaving the room and closing the door behind you quieter than ever before. You let out a sigh of relief over not being caught before you continue tip toeing through the bunker until you eventually reach the stairs down to the basement.

“Whatcha doing here, sweetheart?” You hear from behind you, making you jump. Your hands cover your mouth to stifle the squeal that was begging to come out before you turned to meet Dean’s smirk.

“I just want a peak.” You say innocently, crossing your arms across your chest to symbolise that you weren’t going anywhere. Dean’s eyes drifted down to your exposed thighs, raising his eyebrows at you. It was only then that you recognised that you weren’t wearing pants. “Oh, Jesus.” You laugh awkwardly, pulling the shirt down to cover yourself as much as possible.

“Crowley will tell Sammy that you came down here.” Dean warns, his eyes now back focusing on the large iron door before you both.

“He can’t uh…”

“Nah, all he can do is talk.” Dean promises, placing a hand on your lower back before speaking again. “Don’t tell him you’re with Sammy.” Dean whispered before pulling the door open.

You suck in a sharp breath at the sight of the man sitting before you. He’s not at all like any demon you’ve run into before. He’s handsome and he’s wearing a well-tailored suit. He’s smiling at you with, if you didn’t know any better, the most genuinely happy smile you’d ever seen come from a stranger.

“Hello, darling.” When he speaks, a spark shoots through your body and you feel yourself flinch away from him. You take one step into the room and hesitate, Dean’s hand on your back the only thing encouraging you to move forward. “You’re new.” The demon adds with a coy smirk, looking you directly in the eye as he spoke.

“Hi.” You reply, swallowing hard. Hi? You’re meeting the King of Hell and all you’ve got is _hi_?

“Who’s this then?” Crowley asks, looking to Dean when he spoke. It’s only now that you recognise the faint Scottish accent he’s sporting. Your boyfriend’s brother didn’t reply, merely pursing his lips and taking a seat on a table on one side of the room.

“Who are you?” You ask, deciding to play the cute clueless role you’d mastered when you were fifteen and had to convince your parents you weren’t hunting behind their backs. You take two more steps forward, stopping just shy of the devils trap that was spray painted on the concrete below your feet.

“I’m offended.” He replies, feigning shock at your comment. You don’t want to, and my god do you fight it, but you smile at him. Dean clears his throat and the friendly smile that came to rest on your face quickly dissipated.

“You’re moose’s girl, huh?” Crowley asks, his eyes moving to look at Dean though his head didn’t move an inch. Your heart rate increases and you feel butterflies fill your stomach.

“M-Moose?” you ask with a shaky voice, and you know you’d given yourself away the second he chuckled darkly, nodding slowly in some sort of understanding.

“So I’m assuming you know about the little hell trip he took recently, how was that for you?” Crowley asks you, and before you had a chance to ask what he meant Dean was grabbing your arm, pulling you out of the room. He kept his hold on you until you reached the bottom of the steps then he let you go and made his way back into the room, closing the door behind him.

The last thing you hear as you walk up the stairs is Crowley’s faint screams.


End file.
